


i'm bunkered with ashen soul

by shivadyne



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Attempt at Humor, Blood Drinking, Dark Fantasy, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nibelheim (Compilation of FFVII), Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29191974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shivadyne/pseuds/shivadyne
Summary: Cloud leans back against the cave wall, glancing back inward. “Face the rumors of dragons,” he wonders aloud, “or the weather?”
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 9
Kudos: 85





	i'm bunkered with ashen soul

**Author's Note:**

> the title comes from drown by aviva! honestly this all came from some idea i had while lying in bed and it ran away from me
> 
> also there is so much bickering bc that is my favorite love language even when this is kind of... unbalanced and creepy and semi-dark i will not lie, but like dragons are kind of dubious in general so!!!! ahhh scary
> 
> i'm too tired to edit this rly well so if you see any errors feel free to point them out to me

The biting winter chill of Nibelheim feels good as it runs through Cloud’s hair. He revs up the bike, admiring the mechanical purr as he glides down an off-beaten path. He can see the town filtered through the thick layers of snow-covered leaves; there are flashes of the country life he’d known years ago passing by, filling him with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia.

Cloud parks the bike, tossing the keys into the pocket of his leather jacket as he slides off it with practiced ease. He examines his surroundings, turning on his heel until he finds the rickety bridge… or that’s how it was supposed to look, at least, when he filters through old memories. It had been replaced. The boards show no sign of wear, let alone the impact of Tifa’s body hurtling down below from loosened boards that gave way.

He exhales and goes to start walking as his PHS rings. He holds it loosely in a glove-covered hand, shaking snow out of his bangs. “Strife.”

“Cloud, is that any way to greet an old friend?” Tifa asks, sounding cheerful as ever. She must be at the bar because there’s the filtered sounds of chatter and clinking glasses, along with the flow of running water. She must be doing the dishes. He can imagine her up to her arms in soapy suds, PHS loosely hanging between her ear and shoulder, as her eyes glow red underneath the flickering bar lights.

“We’re not old friends,” he says, pushing down how much he misses her. It’s only been about a decade since he went off on his own, hardly enough time to excuse himself for the emotional response. “Did you need something?”

“Just checking in,” she says. “You usually visit our hometown around now, right? Vincent was lurking around sulking as usual and he asked about you.” She sighs. “You’d think he’d at least try to keep up with the times like us, but he’s still dressed like something out of Dracula.”

“I like the cape,” Cloud mumbles, reaching the bridge. He looks down, staring at the steep drop and unable to make out the fine details of the ground below.

“Of course you do.” Tifa scoffs. “I’m not sure who has the bigger capital on dark, broody vampirism. The sire or the siree. Is… that the term for it?” He can picture her tilting her head to the side, then scrambling to recover the PHS. From the sudden clatter, he guesses he’s right on. “Sorry, probably shouldn’t keep you up like this with my rambling!” She laughs. “You have some remembering to do, right? Just don’t stay away too long. I’ll miss your frowny face.”

“I just… need to clear my head a little,” Cloud says, frowning. “And I can’t stay in the Shinra Mansion anymore. They finally tore it down.” He grimaces, unsure how well Vincent is going to take that news. He’d never had the chance to tell him.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Tifa murmurs, voice soft and deliberately calming. She uses the same voice on stray cats, and that bit of knowledge makes him feel prickly in a way that he’s familiar with. “You just want to run away.”

“Yeah,” Cloud says, staring down at the snow. “You could put it like that. I need to get my thoughts in order. And I remember my mom always talking about our ancestry here in Nibel, how Hel was watching over us… It’s fitting. I’m cheating death, so why not visit her here and there? No need to invoke a goddess’s wrath.”

“It’s alright to miss her, Cloud,” she says, voice going tight in that way it always does where she’s trying not to cry. Always for him, never for herself.

“I know,” he says, wishing he was a more pleasant person to be around. “You’re always going to be in the back of my mind, chewing me out when I try to pull my sulky act.” He kicks at the ground, leaving filthy streaks of dirt in the pure white all around him.

Tifa laughs, even if it sounds choked off. “Be safe, okay? If you don’t check in, I’ll come hunt you down myself.”

“Don’t worry about me, Tifa. I won’t leave you behind,” he says. He remembers when they were kids, staring up at the starry night sky, and feels an impulse to say more. “I promise,” he adds with finality.

“You better,” she says before the line goes dead, static filling the air in place of her soothing voice.

Cloud takes a deep breath and starts walking across the bridge, tucking his PHS away in his pocket. He looks up towards Mt. Nibel in its impressive glory, all sharp angles and overpowering height. He feels lighter just looking at it and trudges onward to start making the climb to the top.

***

The top of Mt. Nibel, it turns out, is cold enough to give Shiva frostbite.

Cloud wraps his arms around himself, wishing he’d worn another layer of clothes. He stares out at the view from above, admiring the way that the setting sun outlines his old hometown in warm hues. It looks saturated, all its lively vibrance straining against the stark emptiness of Mt. Nibel. All around him, he sees nothing but muted colors—grey, white, black, brown, all blurring together into a foreboding mass surrounding him and caging him in.

“Shit,” he says, biting back a sigh.

Despite the beautiful imagery, he could see the brewing of a snowstorm from the darkening of the sky. All the clouds sagged down heavily, a bleak, grey mass hanging overhead.

Cloud leans back against the cave wall, glancing back inward. “Face the rumors of dragons,” he wonders aloud, “or the weather?” He wishes suddenly that he had thought to ask Vincent where vampires stand on the matters of frostbite and hypothermia, turning around slowly and peering into the depths of the cave. He chooses the dragons, obviously, and steps inside.

The cave is dark and damp, the air thick with moisture. It’s a bit more insulated the further in he walks, though an unpleasant chill still lingers.

Cloud carefully touches along the wall until he can find a spot to sit down, reaching back for his sword and unearthing a green Materia. He rolls it around between his fingers, considering the odds of this coming back to bite him in the ass, and decides he doesn’t care so long as it lets him see an inch in front of his face. He focuses his energy onto the Materia, watching it slowly turn red and glow with fiery flickers that singe his gloves enough that he can feel the warmth against his palms. He looks directly ahead of him and blinks.

There’s a large snout hovering right above him, attached to a scaly, silver creature with huge wings.

Cloud presses back against the wall as far as he can, examining the row of teeth right next to his body. His very fragile, breakable body that a dragon could snap in two with ease. “Oh fuck,” he says, rising into a higher pitch than he’ll ever admit in a dramatic retelling if he lives to tell the tale. “Oh shit fuck damn.”

“Quite,” the dragon says, sounding thoroughly amused. “Just what are you doing in my territory, sssmall creature?” The cave suddenly feels thick with magic, oppressive and ancient. It doesn’t help that the dragon has a deep voice, either, because at least if the creature talked like a chocobo it’d be harder to take the giant winged beast in the room seriously. “Ssshall I have a nice evening sssnack?”

“I taste horrible,” Cloud says, feeling resentful about this turn of events. He looks at the Materia in his hand and determines his chances of successfully doing anything with it to be about fuck all. “You can ask any other monster around these parts. One taste of stale blood and even staler flesh and you’ll want mouthwash for sure.”

Cloud flinches back when the dragon gets closer to his face, those wickedly sharp teeth gleaming in the dim lighting, and quickly says, “I came here to escape the storm outside. You can check for yourself, if you don’t believe me. I don’t fight dragons, as a rule. You’re all very out of my league in terms of power.”

“I can sssmell the truth on you,” the dragon says, taking a great big sniff of the air. It’s unpleasant to watch, quite frankly, with those huge nostrils and all that. “You aren’t a mortal, then, but a vampire? Interesssting… I’ll let you ssstay for a price.”

“A price,” Cloud says flatly.

“Not sssuch a hefty one, mind you, but one that you can part with quite willingly,” he reassures Cloud, not that it works particularly well. “Unlesss you wisssh to be eaten. That can be arranged.”

“Fine,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice here. So, what’s the price?”

“You become part of my hoard,” he says, claws wrapping loosely around Cloud’s torso.

Cloud stares down at the claws wrapped around him, feeling uneasy. “I don’t think you’d like me as part of your hoard,” he tries. “I tend to run away from everything. I’m actually in the middle of that right now.”

The dragon ignores him, which is an effective way to deal with him in all consideration, but it strikes a chord of fear in Cloud nonetheless as he’s lifted to be held within the dragon’s grasp.

The room becomes drastically darker, the Materia struggling to filter light into the area as Cloud is taken deeper into the cave. Shadows of light flicker here and there, showing impressions of twists and turns that are difficult to figure out. A steep cliff appears before them with the sound of water burbling below, but the drop is clear as day.

“If you’re going to kill me anyway, that won’t do a whole lot. I’ll live long enough to scream for days and annoy you.” Cloud squeezes his eyes shut, feeling nauseous from being jostled around so much and unwilling to admit he’s afraid even when he’s starting to shake.

“An amusssing thought,” he says, even as they suddenly take to the air with a gust of wind from those magnificently large wings. It’s not a very pleasant flight as he ducks and weaves through rows upon rows of glittering, sharp stalactites before making a landing on the other side. “You’re very mouthy. I expected ssscreaming from the beginning.”

Cloud jolts when they finally land. He’s placed back down on the ground and doesn’t immediately stand or try to run like he wants to, feeling too shaky and nauseated to do much of anything. He pulls his knees up to his chest and places his head between them, taking in gulping breaths of air. “Never do that again,” he says, glaring.

“You truly have a death wisssh,” he says, watching with interest. “Are you ill?”

“It’ll pass,” he grits out, taking deep breaths and trying to steady himself.

“I will be the one making sssure of that,” he says, sounding fainter and shrinking in size until there’s a draconic man standing before Cloud. There’s long silver hair flowing down his shoulders and he’s covered in thick silver scales all over his body, mostly obscuring the fact that he’s butt naked. Despite the drop in size, he’s still huge even in this form and towers over Cloud. “You don’t seem particularly afflicted by any ailments that I’m aware of.”

Cloud buries his head back in his knees. “Put on some clothes first,” he says, grateful that he’s no longer able to blush or he’s sure his skin would be burning up. “What exactly did I agree to here?”

“Your agreement, vague as it was, laid out the terms of the deal between us. I’ll allow you to live so long as you willing remain part of my horde. Do you need to know anything else?” the draconic man asks as he pulls on some clothing. “And I’m dressed to serve your delicate sensibilities, so fear not.” With a flick of his hand, he lights the torches placed along the cave walls to reveal most of his hoard.

Cloud looks up, meeting his eyes and staring at the slit-eyed pupils pulsating within the mass of green. “Am I going to be trapped here forever?” he asks. “And I mean, you’ve left out a lot of details. I don’t even know your name.”

“My name is Sephiroth,” Sephiroth says, walking over in quick strides to pull Cloud to his feet. “And I’m not like most dragons regarding such pathetic things as tradition, so no. If you wish to travel, you can go wherever you want so long as I’m there to keep an eye on you.” He gestures back towards his hoard. “All of this, of course, will have to be relocated to somewhere safer first, but I’m not one for remaining in one place myself. I’ve only been here in Mt. Nibel for a handful of decades. I grew tired of the temperatures in Costa del Sol, so this seemed like a fitting relocation at the time.”

Cloud relaxes his shoulders as that weight falls off them and looks past Sephiroth’s shoulder at his hoard, raising an eyebrow at the stacks of thick tomes. “And you’re not exactly one for hoarding gold either?”

“Worry not,” Sephiroth says with a smirk, still holding onto Cloud’s arm and leading him over towards his hoard. “I have plenty of jewelry and silks to cover you in, as tradition dictates.”

Cloud looks on in horror. “I prefer leather actually,” he says, trying to subtly back away.

“It makes you look like the black death,” Sephiroth says dismissively, holding him in place with clawed fingers encircling his wrist. “It isn’t such a hardship to lose it.”

Cloud stares down at Sephiroth’s hand around his wrist. “It keeps me warm,” he says. “Vampires run cold, probably because we’re not warm-blooded anymore. And we feel warmest when we’re drinking blood.” He looks up to meet his eyes. “But I bet you’re too much of a coward to offer your blood,” he says, grinning enough to show his sharpening fangs. “I could drain you dry after all.”

Sephiroth drops Cloud’s wrist, raising an eyebrow at him. He asks, “Are you particularly old, by chance?” There’s a smugness in his expression that is particularly distasteful, like he knows something that Cloud doesn’t.

“I’m turning three centuries old soon,” Cloud says, averting his eyes. He’s aware that compared to someone like Vincent, he’s nowhere close to being all that old. He doesn’t know a lot about dragons, but he does know that they can live for as long as their hoard remains. “I’m guessing that doesn’t mean much to a dragon.”

“No, not particularly,” Sephiroth says, sheer amusement threaded through his words. “I stopped keeping track, but I’ve been around long enough to watch my fair share of civilizations rise and fall. That’s beyond the point I wanted to make, though.” He steps closer, tilting Cloud’s chin up so that he must look him in the eyes. “Dragon blood is an extremely potent source of power for your kind. You couldn’t handle more than a couple mouthfuls before it would make you sick. It can become addictive, like a drug, if handled improperly. Eventually you’d want more and more until you were in a frenzied bloodlust. And then, well…” He shrugs. “I suppose that would lead to getting sloppy and ending up with a stake through the heart or some other tedious mortal murder method.”

Cloud freezes, looking at him with wide eyes. He doesn’t dare move, not with sharp clawed fingertips holding him in place. “I was just…”

“Bluffing, yes,” Sephiroth says, grinning at him to reveal equally sharp teeth. “I’ll admit that I do find your threats to be deeply amusing. But rest assured, I take good care of my hoard. And that currently includes you.” He releases Cloud’s chin and takes a step back. “Stick to your leather if you wish, but I’m fairly certain I’ll get my way eventually.”

“It’s just clothes,” Cloud mutters, stepping back to sit down on the cave floor. He hasn’t slept all day, not even for a few quick hours like he’s used to functioning on, and he’s feeling more tired for it. He pulls his sword off his back, placing it down next to him where he can easily grab it if necessary. “And I look good in black. I’m a vampire, so I might as well fit the stereotypes.”

Sephiroth steps forward, not even allowing him a moment of respite from his ye olden times alpha male posturing, and pulls him into his arms with ease, lifting him into the air. “We can discuss it later,” he says. “You need sleep.”

Cloud blinks rapidly as he watches the ground get further away. He sighs, too tired to pick another pointless fight, and slumps against Sephiroth’s chest. “We’re going to talk about the manhandling later, too. You’re going to give me a height complex at this rate.”

Sephiroth carries him into another section of the cave that had been carved out into a pod-like space. It’s filled with soft blankets and pillows, both of which seem to have thread-counts that not even Cloud could afford. It sharply contrasts against the hard floor beneath it. “I’m a dragon,” he says as he places Cloud down in the center of the room. “It’s a simple fact that we usually tower over mortals and creatures that fit their likeness.”

Cloud squeezes his Materia between his fingers, using it to light up the room. “I have legs,” he says flatly. “I like to use them.” He waits impatiently for Sephiroth to leave the room, but it seems like he can’t win even once today because he’s suddenly being joined by him.

“You can’t see as well as I can in the dark,” Sephiroth explains, peeling off his shirt and lightly pushing Cloud aside so that he can get underneath the blankets. “Now are you going to sleep or are you going to keep me up with complaints the whole night?”

“I can see perfectly fine when I’m outside of here. I’m a predator of the night so it would be ridiculous if I had no night vision at all,” Cloud says, feeling annoyed. He releases his hold over the Materia, dropping it to the side. He pulls off his jacket and slides out of his leather pants, fighting back his discomfort at the vulnerable position it leaves him in. He crawls under the blankets, pressing himself against the wall as far as he can go.

“And in a cave, you can see as well as any human could,” Sephiroth says, shifting the blankets around as he moves to press up right against Cloud’s back.

Cloud tenses up immediately, feeling the warmth of the bare, scaly chest against him. “What are you doing?” he asks, trying to move further away and only succeeding in whacking his head off the cave wall. He winces, rubbing at his forehead.

Sephiroth scoffs. “I run warm. You run cold.” He pulls Cloud into his arms, flush up against his chest once more, and runs his clawed fingertips along his forehead with care. “Stop squirming around before you actually injure yourself and sleep,” he says, the words bitingly cold.

Cloud stills at the careful touch. “Is all the touching necessary?” he whispers, unable to bring himself to speak in a louder voice about the cuddling they’re basically doing right now. He can feel Sephiroth’s heart beating, loud and strong, like a siren call.

“No,” Sephiroth says before pressing his face into Cloud’s hair, chuckling enough for it to reverberate through Cloud’s entire body. “But it seems an effective way to keep you from moving around and hurting yourself, with the added benefit of your confusion dulling your wits just enough to shut you up.”

Cloud opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to think up a witty response, but fails miserably as he’s distracted by silky strands of hair tickling his nose and the rhythm of Sephiroth’s heart as blood pumps through his veins. He feels his fangs elongating in his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut, focusing on his breathing, and willing himself to sleep.

***

“Are you really that willing to pack up and relocate?” Cloud tosses a Materia from hand to hand, eying Sephiroth skeptically from across the length of the cave. He wasn’t sure how many days he’d been trapped with Sephiroth, huddling into him for warmth when the chill from the cavernous space sunk all the way down to his bones.

“I’ve been looking for an excuse to leave,” Sephiroth says as he places more books in elaborate chests. Based on the claw marks engorged into the elegantly carved designs, it must’ve been the fancy equivalent to getting cardboard boxes from Wall Market. “And if I remember correctly, you complained at length to me about how cold, boring, and dark this cave was for the past few weeks.”

Cloud narrows his eyes at him. “I might not be alive anymore, but it doesn’t mean I don’t admire the sunlight.”

“You can survive in the sunlight?” Sephiroth asks, slamming the lid down with a thump that raises dust into the air. “I believe I heard rumors that vampires burn alive when exposed. I’ve been keeping you out of it for your own good.” He grins at Cloud, the sharp teeth on display. There was an obvious lack of remorse.

“It’s telling that you don’t actually seem sorry,” Cloud says around a sigh, slumping back against the cave wall. He tosses the Materia up into the air before catching it in his other palm, rolling it between his fingertips. “I need to feed on an alive creature eventually. My energy is getting low. If your plan was to weaken me until I died a second death, congrats.” He contemplates the use of jazz hands, sure Aeris would be pleased with him, but feels embarrassment at the idea of following through with it.

“I can fix that,” Sephiroth says, kneeling in front of him. His silver hair cascades down his shoulders, brushing against Cloud’s cheek. He reaches forward, the thick rings on his fingers clinking against Cloud’s skin as Sephiroth takes his face in his palm. There’s a gentleness to the hold, but the brush of sharp fingertips against his throat are proof that it isn’t meant to last.

“You power-walked all the way over here to say that to me?” Cloud asks sullenly, clenching the Materia in his fist tightly. He has no intention on using it but having proof that he’s not powerless is a soothing balm to any soul.

“Do you want to feed?” Sephiroth asks, thoroughly ignoring the attitude. He looks unaffected, eyes cold and unfeeling as he inspects Cloud’s face, tilting it this way and that to examine his face from all angles.

“It’s not about desires,” Cloud says, feeling irritation bubbling up beneath the surface of his skin. “It’s about needs.”

“It’s a yes or no question, Cloud.”

“Fine,” he bites out from between clenched teeth, flexing and unflexing his fingers around the smooth surface of the Materia. He takes a steadying breath, meeting Sephiroth’s eyes. “I’ll feed from you.”

Sephiroth smirks, shifting his hold to yank Cloud’s face down against his neck. He holds it there, his hand resting against the crown of his head. “You won’t need much. I’ll stop you when you’ve had your fill.”

“I think I know my limits,” Cloud mumbles around Sephiroth’s skin, sinking his elongated fangs into the flesh and gulping down the blood steadily. The rush of it is heady, an inviting feeling of euphoria that makes it hard to focus on the here and now. He tries to remember the chill in his bones, the wariness he feels around his current company, and finds himself coming up with nothing short of bliss instead. He feels warm and comfortable, the blood burning up in his veins and turning his flesh pink as it circulates through. It’s a new feeling, one he’s not very used to, and he finds it hard to pull away.

“Quite,” Sephiroth says in dark amusement, though his voice sounds faraway as if it’s being heard from underwater. He scoffs, pulling Cloud back forcefully with a grip on the back of his neck holding him away.

Cloud bares his fangs, an animalistic sound climbing up his throat before he comes into awareness and refuses to let it pass his lips. He blinks rapidly, trying to dislodge the bulk of his blood-thirsty thoughts from his head with a quick mental shake. His skin flushes, a deep pink that he’s unused to, as he refuses to meet Sephiroth’s eye. The fingertips resting on the back of his neck feel like they’re trapping him here in this moment of no control. “Um,” he says, uselessly, as he tries to summon words. “Fuck,” he manages after a second of pause.

Sephiroth releases him, thumb rubbing along the base of his spine before his hand falls away. “Well, that was thoroughly enjoyable,” he says, leaning back on his hands as his eyes trace over Cloud’s face from his wide eyes to his flushed skin. “Don’t fret. I told you my blood is quite potent.”

“You didn’t say I’d feel so out of control,” Cloud says, his voice rising into a higher pitch. He silences, thoroughly discomforted, and contemplates flinging himself into the void down below regardless of his inevitably unpleasant fate. “That’s not happening again. I’m sticking to rats.”

Sephiroth narrows his eyes at him. “You are not going to be feeding from rats with me around,” he says, thoroughly disgusted. “I’m a dragon. Have you no idea how much of an opportunity has fallen into your lap? I’m perfectly capable of stopping you from feeding too much. You’re weaker than a small child.”

Cloud contemplates jumping at Sephiroth and knocking them both into the void down below regardless of his inevitably unpleasant fate because at least this time it was sure to be a quick death. “I could still drain you dry even if I ended up going absolutely mental over it,” he suggests darkly.

“You could certainly try,” Sephiroth offers, pushing himself to feet in a fluid motion, offering a hand out to him. “Now come here. I’ve found the jewelry and silks, as you so desired me to.”

Cloud smacks his hand away. “Over my dead body.”

Sephiroth looks him up and down. “That can be arranged,” he says, leaning down to a curl a hand around his shoulder and another the backs of his legs, lifting him up with ease. “As a vampire, you’re already a dead body,” he points out.

Cloud narrows his eyes, wishing he had his sword on him so he could cut Sephiroth into itty bitty little pieces. It wasn’t very possible, but Zack always told him it’s good to be an overachiever. “Seriously, what did I say about the manhandling?”

“Nothing I paid any mind to,” Sephiroth says absently, carrying him over towards his hoard. He places him down on his feet. “And I was teasing about the silks if that will calm your temper. I doubt even vampires have complete elemental resilience, especially if one is going to be carted around by a dragon. The winds can be unforgiving and wicked.” He pulls out a coat made from thick furs, offering it towards Cloud. “You should layer up,” he says.

Cloud frowns, taking the coat from him. He slips into it, glancing down to the length of the sleeves as they fall over his hands. “I suppose these must be spares of yours,” he says, feeling quite ridiculous. He knows the girls have told him oversized fashion is growing in popularity now, but he suspects they don’t mean this oversized. “Wonderful,” he says with a sigh, attempting to fold up the sleeves to fit better.

Sephiroth reaches over him to button up the coat before it falls right off Cloud’s shoulders. “If you keep complaining, I could always grab you the silks. I do have some lying around here, though I believe they might have belonged to a woman once.”

Cloud steps back, staring up at Sephiroth with an unamused scowl. “No,” he says sharply, thinking back to an unpleasant evening out with Aeris.

Sephiroth rests a hand on Cloud’s shoulder, steering him over towards the rest of the hoard scattered across the floor. “Then you ought to start packing before I get sick of your whining and “manhandle” you back into the bedroom and roll a boulder in front of it. I have one lying around thereabouts, I’m sure.”

“You’re not funny,” Cloud says, like a sulky teenager. He sighs and looks around at the absolute mess. “You really don’t pack lightly, do you…?”

Sephiroth glances at him. “I am a dragon,” he says pointedly.

“I wish you ate me and got it over with,” he mutters as he kneels to start packing up even more books. He wonders if anyone ever told him about the wonders of public libraries but dismisses the thought with a shake of his head.

“Ah, but you got a dragon and not a genie. Tough luck for you, I suppose,” Sephiroth says with a hint of a smile.

Cloud eyes the lamp lying amidst all the ancient junk and makes a silent vow to rub it at the soonest opportunity.

***

Cloud sits down on top of a wooden chest, staring at the snowflakes drifting down from the sky. He leans back, tilting his head up at the sky as he grips his sword from where it rests at his back. It feels good to be out in the open and armed again, even if he’s stuck waiting for Sephiroth to retrieve a vehicle larger than his bike to carry all this junk.

A loud engine signals Sephiroth’s arrival, the tires squelching in the snow and leaving murky black slush in its wake. It’s a simple truck, but the bed should serve well enough for loading it up.

Sephiroth hops out from the car, appearing almost human with the thick gloves hiding his inhuman features. He stalks towards Cloud like a predator, unnecessarily dramatic as his coat flairs out behind him like a dark omen. Maybe it signals that Cloud’s going to freeze to death after all. He takes one look at Cloud shivering and quirks an eyebrow at him. “Get in the truck,” he says. “I doubt you’ll be much help to me anyway, with your inferior height and proclivity towards complaining enough to waste every breath you should save.”

Cloud hops down from the chest, stepping up towards his bike to help load it into the truck. “So you did have to steal it then,” he says, thoroughly amused. “If you get caught, I’m saying you held me hostage.”

Sephiroth is tellingly silent as they load the truck up.

“Did you hotwire it like I told you to?” Cloud asks, resting a hand on his hip as he watches Sephiroth carefully place everything to not jostle it on the move. It seems like the possessiveness over the hoard is true, at least. “After you said there was no need, even if this is still a mostly backwater town where no one ever leaves unless they never plan to come back?”

“This is your hometown and it appears you’re still here,” Sephiroth says, narrowing his eyes at Cloud. He looks testy but considering the time constraints and their deal it’s unlikely Cloud will end up a shish kebab on his own sword anytime soon.

“I couldn’t stay forever,” Cloud says, sliding into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t want to be carsick with Sephiroth right next to him. He’d never get to live that down. “They saw me sometimes. Rumor has it that I’m some demon or spirit haunting the town. Didn’t stick around for details. Small towns have deep superstitions, and I know better than to get myself staked through the heart for the sake of nostalgia.”

“And yet you’re here on the outskirts of your home,” Sephiroth says as he climbs into the truck, not arguing on their seating arrangement at all. He rests his head back against the seat, lolling it around to make eye contact with Cloud. “Is that for the sake of nostalgia?”

Cloud stares down at his hands on the wheel, unsure what his answer should be. “I don’t know. I come out here to think, and that’s about it,” he says, wishing it was as simple as it sounded. He was always moping around, stuck on the past, and the truth of it was that he didn’t know how to stop. He starts driving away, glancing out the rearview window at Mt. Nibel. It looked so large and imposing once, but now it just was.

“I have no home that I can claim as mine,” Sephiroth says, sounding almost wistful. “I wonder what it must be like to feel that way. It’s to my benefit to feel nothing for the location because a dragon is always moving, never allowed to truly settle. Or so it was back in the day. Things are changing now.”

Cloud doesn’t allow himself to look back again. “Yeah.” He’s not sure if he can change with the world or if he’ll always be stagnating, one foot in the past and one foot in the present. “I never thought I’d be bringing home a dragon.”

“Well, Cloud,” Sephiroth says, voice dropping down an octave. “It was my choice, not yours. And it won’t be easy to escape me even in a big city, modern and futuristic as it is, because you’ll be crawling back to me for more blood if you try.”

Cloud’s fangs elongate beneath his gums against his will, and he feels sharply unsettled even as he retracts them. “I won’t run,” he says. “I’m not doing that anymore.” He looks back at Mt. Nibel one last time, thinking of his long-gone mother, and wonders what prayer she would use to save his soul if she could see him now. “That’s the promise I’ve decided to make.”


End file.
